Broody
by Lauren808
Summary: Owen finally meets Michael- and he's not impressed. Random one-shot. Owen/Nikita. ***Now a multi-chapter story***
1. Chapter 1

**I am going through Nikita withdrawal, but the time is nearly here! Huzzah!**

**Just something off the top of my head. Nikita/Owen, of course!**

"You're trapped, Nikita," Michael said as he held her at gunpoint. She was trapped in a narrow alley in Manhattan, just outside the hotel room where Division's target was _supposed _to be lying dead. (Nikita had other plans, though.)

These plans didn't involve _this_ however, and Michael took that as a small victory.

Nikita sighed and stepped closer, her hands up in surrender. "This scenario is getting old. Are you going to shoot me this time, Michael?" She tried to sound cool and calm, but she was rattled. Ever since she had stopped Michael's suicide mission, since she had seen the hatred in his eyes, she knew that if he could, he would kill her.

He wasn't as sure. The gun felt heavy in his hands. _Just get it over with, _he commanded himself. _Kill her._

"You're getting sloppy," he said, prolonging the time before the decision. He just needed to think for a second. "Jumping into a dead-end. I think you get an F for this mission."

She cocked her head to the side. "I think I deserve at least a C+. I saved Gombrich, didn't I?"

"Still, this isn't like you." He almost smiled victoriously. "No plan B. When has that ever happened?"

"Actually..."

_Shit._

Michael felt the gun at his back and he slowly closed his eyes in defeat, dropping his own weapon.

"Hello," the man behind him said happily. "We've haven't formally met yet. I'm Owen. AKA: Plan B."

Michael looked in time to see Nikita roll her eyes. "Let's just get out of here. Gombrich is safe."

She did not move forward, however. She was staring intently at Owen, as if trying to communicate with him. Michael felt the gun press harder onto his back.

"Owen," she said, her voice low and comforting. "Owen, he's not Percy."

The pressure lessened.

Owen jerked his head back, motioning for Nikita to walk out of the alley. As she did, he whispered savagely to Michael, "You're one lucky son of a bitch. You have no idea what I would've done to you if you pulled that trigger."

* * *

They rode in contemplative silence back to her house. Nikita was driving.

"That guy was a douchebag, huh?" Owen finally said tensely.

Nikita raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised he left you with such a strong impression."

He didn't seem to hear her. "And what's up with those huge bags under his eyes? Broody needs some _sleep._"

"Broody?"

"And did you see him flirting with that Alex girl? You know, your inside contact? Shit, he's like some pedophile." He turned to her, wide eyes. "Or is it some weird complex? Is he projecting his feelings for you onto her? It's sick, huh?"

Her jaw dropped. "He has _no_ feelings for me! We're on opposite teams!"

"That's all you heard? I just told you the dude's a pedophile."

"I block out nonsense. She's in her twenty's. It's not that gross."

Owen didn't continue because he knew he was being slightly ridiculous. "What's your story? The two of you?" He tried not to sound too curious.

"We used to be... partners. Sort of."

"Partners?" he repeated. "Like us?"

She almost smiled. "Like us... except, different."

"Different?"

"Yeah... I don't know how to explain," she said, feeling uncomfortable.

Owen put his feet up on the dashboard and smiled slightly. "I know why we're different. Me and Broody."

"Pray tell."

"I'm on _your_ side. He's not." He looked straight at her and Nikita was hit full blast by his smile. "You can trust me."

She swallowed hard. "Yes, I can."


	2. Chapter 2

The second time Michael met Owen, he had an inkling that it would not go as smoothly this time. For one thing, Nikita wasn't there to keep the dark blond man on his leash.

Secondly, Owen was having a really, _really _bad day.

* * *

There was a man named Bradley Edwards. He was 62, an ex-con, a notorious drinker, serial killer, and Percy's bitch. Bradley "Meat" Edwards was also 6'7" and had hands the size of trash-can lids.

"You want me to _talk_ to _that_ guy?" Owen asked incredulously.

Nikita flashed him a smile. "Yes."

"_That_ guy? The guy who looks like he could crush my head between his two fingers? _Him?"_

She frowned in response, trying not to seem too amused. "What happened to your tough-guy act? I thought it might actually come in handy for once." He was too busy gaping at Edwards' large form, which was seated at the counter of the shitty bar they were in. "I need you to talk to him and try to get some information. He posed as Gombrich's bodyguard for Percy five years ago and therefore can tell us why Percy wants Gombrich dead."

Owen finally looked back at her. "Why don't we ask Gombrich?"

"He's heavily guarded. This is easier."

Owen snorted. "If it's so easy, why don't _you_ talk to the Hulk? Use your feminine charm."

The Cheshire-grin finally broke out on Nikita's face. Owen almost smiled in return because, damn, she could be gorgeous when she wanted to. She leaned forward and whispered, "Bradley Edwards won't be persuaded by a woman."

"Why the hell not?"

She rolled her eyes. "He plays for an all-guys team."

"Well, then wouldn't he want female contact after being surrounded by Division guys?"

"Owen!" She sighed in exasperation. "Not _that _kind of team."

"Then what kind-" He stopped and thought for a second. Then his blue eyes widened. "Shit, Nikki, why do you hate me?"

(_Because you killed the love of her life, jackass, _his subconscious answered snidely.)

She patted his cheek. "Make me proud." And then she walked out the door, leaving him in the piss-smelling bar with the gay Hulk.

* * *

After Michael had botched the Gombrich mission, Percy had been pissed.

"So you let Nikita win _again_," he said calmly as Michael sat before him. Amanda was standing at Percy's flank, obviously enjoying watching Michael squirm.

"What is it about this woman?" Percy continued, his hands behind his back as he loomed over the other man. "_I _created her. _You _trained her. And yet, there's nothing you can do to put the mad bitch down." His eyes bored into Michael's. "Why don't I buy that?"

"She had help," Michael ground out. "She wasn't alone this time."

"Ah, her boyfriend." Percy nodded. "Those two together will be a problem. They even each other out, both deadly." He smiled, amused. "Almost like the two of you used to be, huh?"

_Calm down, _Michael told himself. _He's only trying to get a reaction out of you. _He silently fumed.

But before he could answer, there was an urgent knock on the door and Birkhoff burst in. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we just got a message from one of your RG-sources. He says he's got the guy."

Percy smirked. "Excellent. What about the girl?"

Birkhoff shook his head. "No sign of her. Does that mean she didn't fall for the trap?"

"No, I think she fell. She wouldn't have let Owen meet Edwards, then," Percy replied. Michael's ear perked up. They were talking about Nikita and the douche she was working with. "No, we dangled that bit of information in front of her and she gobbled it right up. Do you have their location?"

Birkhoff nodded the affirmative.

Percy slid his gaze to Michael. "Are you ready to redeem yourself?"

* * *

Owen ran his fingers through his hair, took a deep breath, and walked over to the bar. As he sat next to Edwards, he motioned for the bartender, a skinny young kid who looked to be only fifteen, to come over.

_Underage_, Owen silently tutted.

"I'll have a beer, please," he said. Then he looked at Edwards' empty shot glass_. Christ, it's eleven in the morning_. "Can I buy you another drink, man?"

Edwards shook his head and suppressed a belch. "I fink_... think_... that I had 'nuff, right Billy?"

The bartender nodded forcefully. "Oh, yes sir."

Owen jumped as Edwards slammed his hand down on the counter in rage. "Don't tell me what to do, Billy!" The beast roared.

Billy looked like he was going to cry as he refilled the shot glass. Not for the first time today, Owen silently cursed Nikita furiously. This was probably the stupidest thing she ever got him to do.

Edwards poured the liquor down like it was root beer. "So, how can I help ya?"

"What do you mean?" Owen asked.

"You come over, ask ta buy me a drink, right? Well, want ya want? I owe you money?" Edwards wiped his running nose on the sleeve of his shirt and his eyes were half closed.

"No, no, nothing like that," Owen was quick to assure him. "I saw you and thought... well, I thought you looked like a guy that could use a break from life."

_(Wasn't that a line from the movie you just watched where the prostitute was trying to lure a man to bed? _His subconcious asked with disgust.)

He plunged on, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. "I'm Phil. What's your name?"

Edwards blinked. "I'm Brad. Brad Edwards."

Owen feigned shock. "_The _Bradley Edwards? The famous... uh... bodyguard of Richard Gombrich?" He prayed that the giant was as drunk as he looked. "Dude, you're a legend. They say on the streets that you can kill a guy by just looking at him wrong."

They heard Billy squeak.

Edwards grinned a bit to himself."They still talk 'bout me? Where? What gang are you in?"

_Gang?_ "O&N," he replied and then winced. He wasn't exactly sure that was a gang or not.

Bradley Edwards laughed out loud. "You're cute. I almost feel bad." His grin said otherwise. And his clear eyes said something as well.

This man was not drunk.

Owen cursed and spun, hoping desperately that he might reach the exit before the trash can lids closed around his neck.

What he saw, however, was much worse.

"Broody," he groaned.

Michael raised an eyebrow, his gun trained on Owen's chest. "Nice to see you again, too."

* * *

**Alright, I was going to make this a two-shot, but it would have been way too long... so "Broody" will be my first ever multi-chapter story on fanfiction! Hurray!**


	3. Chapter 3

_"Michael, remember this: Do not kill him. We need him, still. He's our only way to lure Nikita out of her hole."_

Percy's words rang bitterly in Michael's ears. He didn't like to think of Nikita risking her neck to save Owen. Actually, he _hated_ thinking about it. It didn't make sense, first of all. They barely knew each other, and Nikita wasn't one to trust someone she just met.

Second of all... well, it just left a really shitty feeling in his stomach, for reasons as of yet undetermined.

Owen groaned once more and Michael saw his hand inch towards his back pocket where he was undoubtedly hiding a gun.

"Hands where I can see them," Michael ordered. Then he smirked. "Edwards, check him."

Edwards grinned. "Sure thing, boss." The huge thing of a man ran his hands along Owen's body, checking for any hidden weapons. He pulled out a gun from the back pocket, and another one inside his jacket.

"Some Division agent," Michael mused out loud, most likely to rile his prisoner up a bit more for fun. "Couldn't even try to defend yourself." He threw Edwards his a pair of hand-cuffs. "Cuff him."

As Edwards secured his hands behind his back, Owen shrugged. "I was just trying to give you a fair start. You know, a handicap."

"Handicap?" Michael repeated, frowning.

"You, with a gun and a sidekick," Owen replied. "Me, handcuffed and alone. I'd say we were pretty evenly matched. Of course, when Nikki shows up, you're screwed."

The only thing Michael could blurt out was, "She hates to be called Nikki."

"Really? I guess she hated when _you _called her Nikki, chief," Owen smirked. "But that's because you're the one that turned her into a fucking killing machine, right?"

Michael aimed at Owen's thigh and pulled the trigger without any remorse. He didn't smile when the man fell over groaning in pain, but he wasn't going to pretend that he didn't feel a twinge of satisfaction.

* * *

The blood soaked through Owen's jeans and he felt himself blacking out. He managed to keep his eyes open and desperately tried to find some weapon to defend himself with.

Luckily, Edwards dropped Owen in surprise at the gunshot (the big lug was skittish, who knew?) and Owen quickly used his freedom to his advantage, using his good leg to kick behind his captive's knees.

Edwards fell with an 'oof', making the loose tiles of the bar floor shift. He heard Michael curse and cock the gun for another shot, but Owen was moving like his life depended on it. Which it did, actually.

The confiscated gun was in the back of Edwards' pocket and Owen managed to scoop it up with difficulty, for his hands were still cuffed. He clutched the gun behind his back, praying that he wouldn't drop it, and dove behind the bar without taking anymore shots.

(He knew how ridiculous he must've looked.)

But as he lay behind the counter, the gun sticky and useless behind his back, he knew he wouldn't be able to go on much longer. The floor was covered in his blood and the piercing pain behind his eyes wouldn't cease.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the searing feeling in his chest and pasted on a smile. If he was going out, he would damn well take Broody with him.

As he prepared to make his final, epic stand (which would actually look pretty stupid because he would have to turn around and shoot randomly without being able to see), he heard a voice.

"Drop your gun, Michael."

Owen sighed and felt his eyes slowly close.

_Thank God._

* * *

"Owen?" She called, keeping her gun trained on Michael, whose shoulders went rigid at the sound of her voice. "Owen, are you alright?"

There was no answer and Nikita felt her heart thud painfully. "Owen, answer me."

Michael looked at her, his eyes solemn. "You're too late, Nikita. My men have him secured outside. We're taking him to Percy."

"Then why were you pointing your gun at the bar, huh?" She asked in a cool tone. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

There was movement at the corner of her eye, but Michael was slowly walking towards her and she couldn't concentrate, despite her valiant effort to look calm and collected_. Idiot, _she thought to herself_. This is why you work alone. You get too attached._

_"_Stay where you are!" She told him fiercely. He obeyed. Keeping her gun trained on Michael, though also making sure Edwards was in her line of sight, she inched backwards towards the bar, nearly slipping on the thick blood that coated the ground.

_Please don't die on me,_ she silently begged.

"Don't look so nervous, Nikita," Michael said. "You don't know everything about Owen, do you? Well, let me enlighten you." He paused, and the suspense hung for a moment in the air. "Owen is the man who killed Daniel."

She was about to respond, but someone else beat her to the punch.

"How anticlimactic. Nice try, douche, but she already knows." Owen swung over the bar with a cocky smile, aiming a gun at Edwards, who had been trying to inch towards the door.

Nikita gave him a look, half-angry, half-relieved.

He shrugged. "Sorry for not answering you. Those handcuffs were a bitch." He turned back to Michael. "Can we kill him now? He's starting to really get on my nerves."

She shook her head in exasperation. "Toss me the rope."

He did so and she set about tying Edwards to one of the bar stools as Owen kept his gun trained on Michael's crotch.

"Nik, the Division men are getting suspicious, I think they're coming in because they haven't heard from Broody. Hurry up and tie him up."

It was completely stupid and weak, but Nikita couldn't tie Michael up. It didn't even make much sense, but she respected him too much to chain him up like some common dog. Despite what Division had turned him into, she truly believed he was a good man, and despite how much hatred was springing from his eyes, he was her friend.

And then she noticed how pale Owen looked, though he was putting up a brave fight by making stupid macho faces at Edwards. She felt of wave of anger, anger at all the violence that Division was causing and how much hurt the man had been put through by Percy.

And by Michael.

In a instance of thoughtlessness, Nikita leaned down to Michael's ear. "Sorry, but I have to pay you back for shooting my partner."

She walked a few feet away from him, turned, aimed, and (for the second time) shot him in the shoulder.

She winced apologetically as he grunted in pain. She had made sure that the bullet just grazed him, but it still hurt like hell.

"Uh, you missed."

"Shut up, Owen."

* * *

They had ran out the back door, barely missing the raid of Division agents that poured through the door, when Owen collapsed from pure exhaustion. Nikita dragged him to her van that was parked next door and slammed down on the gas petal.

Owen opened his eyes momentarily, and gave her a hazy smile. "Looks like you're gonna have to patch me up again, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart," she said with disgust.

He laughed a little and closed his eyes.

And Nikita smiled.

* * *

**Nikita's back! Hurray!**

**I was a little disapointed that there wasn't any Owen (though I'm not surprised) and that Ryan guy was random. They better not make him in more episodes than Owen or I'll... well, I won't do anything except angrily fanfic. I mean, they could be a trio, that would be alright, but Owen's character has SO MUCH POTENTIAL!**

**If anyone else writes an Owen/Nikita fic, please lemme know! I love the pairing, but I don't think I'm doing it justice. **


	4. Chapter 4

Alex grinned to herself as she entered Nikita's building. For the first time in so long, she felt like she truly had a home and a family. And she could totally get used to not having to be at Division, wondering constantly when anyone would figure her out.

Her smile fell a bit when she thought of all the people she had been forced to lie to. Many she really didn't give a crap about (cough Jayden cough) but some of them were good people. And one of them was Thom.

She closed her eyes, wishing that the pain his name inflected on her would ease, even just a little bit. She kept hearing the gunshot that ended his life over and over...

"You're the mole, I presume?" A voice interrupted her.

She opened her eyes, startled, and blinked the moisture that blurred her vision away quickly. A man that looked slightly familiar was leaning against the doorway, examining her. He was good-looking, with short blond hair and a well-built body, but that really didn't matter because for some reason, he was _there _and she didn't know why.

She nearly groaned. She must have not taken the tracker out fully and now she had led Division straight to Nikita.

She crossed her arms. "Who are _you_? What have you done with Nikita?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Nothing much. I just locked her in the basement and decided to use her as my own personal sex slave."

He was probably joking (albeit poorly), but Alex's eyes flashed in rage and pain. She didn't hesitate to aim a strong kick at the man's crotch.

Unfortunately, she didn't get the satisfaction of hearing him scream in pain, for he easily caught hold of her ankle and pushed her so she fell humiliatingly on her ass.

"Too predictable. And Nikita said she trained you? Hmm."

The pain in her rear was excruciating, but she jumped back up in her fighting stance. "I'm just getting started!"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for this." He turned back to the house. "Nikki, visitor!"

_Nikki? What the fuc-_

Nikita popped her head out. "What are you guys doing out here? We're trying to keep a low profile!"

The man pointed at Alex. "Tell that to the infant!"

"Wha-?" Alex shook her head in confusion. "What the hell is going on?"

Nikita gave her a strange look. "Come in first, Alex, and then I'll answer your questions."

She wanted to have answers _now_, but followed Nikita and the stranger into the house without further fighting, securing the locks on the front door behind her. She was trying to practice her patience. Apparently, it was a virtue.

The three of them went into the main room and Alex was surprised to see a camping bed placed in the corner. It had obviously been slept in and books were piled in stacks on both sides.

"What's going on?" Alex demanded as Nikita plopped into her computer chair after giving the younger woman a quick hug. "Who's he?"

Nikita looked surprised. "I didn't tell you? This is Owen. He's working with me to find the rest of the black boxes."

"_Owen?_" She glanced at the bed. "He's _living_ with you?"

Alex swore she saw Nikita faintly blush. "It's much more convenient than having him sneak up on me everywhere."

"Though not as fun," Owen added with a smirk.

"Fun?" Nikita repeated incredulously. "Do you like getting your ass handed to you?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part." The smile slipped as he thought about what she said and he scowled. "You didn't beat me! It was at the _most_ a tie, though that's me being generous."

Nikita snorted. "You wouldn't stand a chance if I stopped myself from holding back."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah right. I think I could handle the Rogue Ninja or whatever the hell they're calling you."

She smiled. "I think it was the _badass_ Rogue Ninja."

Alex watched the bickering with interest. Nikita's smile was coming so much easier than usual and they both seemed completely comfortable with each other. It was almost like they forgot Alex was even there at all. "Are you guys _sleeping _together?"

They simultaneously turned to give her shocked looks.

"_No._"

"Absolutely not!"

_Not yet anyway_, Alex thought to herself with realization.

* * *

After Alex had left to go back to the apartment Michael had fixed her up with, Nikita went to bed a little early. She felt drained, after all that had happened the past two weeks and was trying to keep up with her rest.

Normally, on nights like this, she would think of Michael.

She didn't _want_ to because, no matter how hard she tried, he would always be her opponent. The guy standing in her way. But she thought of him because she saw the man he was slipping into. He was doing more and more for Percy, becoming so wrapped up in Division and his plans for revenge, that he didn't even realize how far he was taking it all. The line between the old Michael, her friend and mentor, and just another Division monster was so blurred, that Nikita really felt like knocking some sense into him.

She had the horrible feeling that he would cross over to that dark side and she would lose him forever. Michael didn't have the strength to be the better man anymore.

A burst of hatred burned through her, causing her to grip her blankets tightly and toss over onto her side to keep from groaning in frustration. She tried to be quiet because she didn't want Owen-

Owen. The name brought to mind so many things, so many conflicting emotions.

He was a tool, just like Michael is becoming, she began to realize. But _he_ woke up. He had the strength after they took Emily to become something more than just a monster. He-

He killed Daniel.

She tossed again.

But that one fact was becoming far less hurtful and rage-inspiring than it should. She should want to tear his throat out.

She shook her head, knowing that she wouldn't hurt him. Every time she thought about it, she would remember his face…

* * *

_It was the first night Owen crashed at her safe house. He had just returned from a fruitless search for a black box in Alaska and he was obviously exhausted._

_"You can sleep here," Nikita said as she rolled over one of those camping beds that Alex had temporarily slept in the first time she stayed over._

_"Thank you," he murmured appreciatively._

_"You'll need blankets," she said, looking around the room. The microwave from her kitchen beeped loudly, signaling that her popcorn was ready. She rushed in, calling over her shoulder, "Look in the first draw in the cabinet over there!"_

_She pulled out a bowl and poured in the popcorn, feeling a bit awkward. She supposed she could just avoid him and let him leave the next morning without anymore interaction between the two…_

_She gritted her teeth and walked back into the room with the bowl, wondering vaguely if she should make Owen dinner. _

_She froze when she saw him staring at a picture that Nikita had shoved in one of the draws when she first arrived._

_"Is this him?" Owen asked hoarsely, holding up her only picture of Daniel, who was laughing in the shot. She didn't remember why he was laughing, but he looked so… _Daniel_ that Nikita didn't have the heart to leave it behind with the rest of the pictures of them together._

_"Yes."_

_He let out a dry sob and Nikita winced at the raw pain he was trying desperately to conceal. He placed it back on the cabinet and took a fistful of his hair in each hand, his face etched in torment._

_They were silent for a few moments, before Owen jumped up and walked gauchely over to her. _

_"Hit me," he almost begged. "Really hit me."_

_She started to raise her hand and he closed his eyes, waiting, but she found herself stopping the blow. _

_"No, Owen."_

_He groaned. "Please. Please, Nikita, I'm fucking dying here."_

_She resisted the ridiculous urge to touch his face and try to soothe him. "No." Her voice was almost tender._

_She turned her back on him and started to go upstairs, but she looked back at the last second. "Good night. I'll see you in the morning."_

_He closed his eyes, but a bit of the pain had faded. Or maybe that was her imagination._

* * *

Nikita tossed a few more times trying to get comfortable. She heard a clang downstairs and heard Owen release a string of profanities.

She knew nothing was wrong, though. That was his _I-just-so-stubbed-my-damn-toe-and-it-hurts-like-a-mother _tone.

She shook her head, this time at herself. Nope. She wouldn't be able to hurt him.

* * *

**Hey, so I changed my pename (because my real name is Lauren) so sorry if that confused anyone. **

**As for the last Nikita episode, it made me rethink the whol MichaelxNikita relationship...**

**But I still think Owen pwns. **


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you have there?" Owen asked, peering over Nikita's slim shoulder.

She was playing what looked like a security tape of an urban sidewalk. Her gaze was focused on the mailbox that many of the people on screen walked by casually. "I'm waiting for my signal. The camera is supposed to pick up whenever- Ah!" The camera zoomed in on a chalk heart messily scrawled onto the side of the mailbox. "There it is!"

Owen raised an eyebrow. "So what's the heart supposed to mean?"

She got off of her chair and went to look for her coat. As she put her arms through the soft material of the sleeves, she replied, "Ryan wants to meet with me."

"_Fletcher_?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Ryan Seacrest."

"I didn't know you were still in touch with-" He stopped as she paused the clip to the moment when Fletcher drew the heart. "He's leaving you hearts around town to get you to _meet_ with him." He shuddered. "If that doesn't scream, _I'm-trying-to-get-in-your-pants..._"

She slapped him on the shoulder. "This is strictly professional, ass." Still, he saw that she blushed a bit.

Owen internally groaned. First Broody and now _Fletcher?_ The James Bond wanna-be?

He made up his mind after a moment of deliberation and jump over one of her chairs to get his own jacket. "Well, in that case, I should probably come with, eh partner?"

"That won't be necess-"

He smirked. "I insist."

* * *

Ryan Fletcher was waiting in a dark alley, trying to cool his nerves before Nikita got there. He wasn't one to be nervous about women because he never really thought about women. He had been shocked the first time Nikita had kissed him, but after the mission with the dirty bomb, _he _had been the one to initiate and now he was so far out of his league that it was embarrassing.

"I was surprised to get your call so soon after Voss," her unmistakable voice said from behind him. He tried not to jump and mentally cursed. He had been reading up on different techniques to improve his senses so that he would catch her trying to sneak up on him and he could impress her with a witty one-liner, but he wasn't really that kind of guy.

"I know, but I needed to see you," he replied, turning around. He saw nothing but darkness and frowned.

"It better be something good because it's goddamn _early_."

Ryan's eyebrows shot up. _That_ was not Nikita.

"I took you along because you begged me to, but I will not tolerate _complaining_," Nikita said in an exasperated voice.

"God, you sound like my mother."

Two figures dropped casually down from the fire escape above, causing Ryan to almost wet himself. "Jesus Christ," he wheezed, clutching his chest.

Nikita flashed him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. We like the dramatic entrances and all, but this was really your fault for scheduling our meeting in a dark alleyway."

"Cliché," the man nodded.

The man was extremely familiar, and Ryan wracked his brain trying to remember his name. "Um, I thought you were going to come alone," Ryan said distrustfully.

"Ry, you don't remember me?" The man put his hand to his chest, feigning injury. "I'm hurt, man. After I saved your ass and everything."

"It was your fault his ass needed saving," Nikita reminded him.

"Owen," Ryan finally recalled. The name left a sour taste in his mouth. "Your partner. I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to forget about you. I never properly thanked you for helping Nikita save my life."

"Don't sweat it." For some reason, Owen's smile didn't seem very genuine. "So, what's up?"

Ryan took a deep breath. "I got a message from someone inside Division. It was slipped in between some folders on my desk that were supposed to be highly classified. It was hand written, too, which surprised me. She wanted me to contact you."

Nikita's eyebrows rose. "Hm. This ought to be interesting. Who sent it? Who's "she"?"

"It said her name was Amanda." He rummaged around in his pocket, trying to find the piece of paper. "At first I thought it was in difficult code, but I managed to crack it. It was just pigpen!" He laughed a little. "I mean, _pigpen_!"

"Geek," Owen muttered.

Ryan blushed, but pretended not to hear him. "The message was just a name. Alexandra Udinov. And then it was signed Amanda. Apparently you were supposed toknow who that was." He didn't notice Nikita's face pale dramatically and started to pace, deep in thought. "It might be someone Division is trying to target next. I imagined that "Amanda" was your inside contact, and maybe this Alexandra is another rogue-"

"Fletcher," Owen interrupted. "Shut _up._" He reached out to put an arm on Nikita's shoulder. "What is it?"

"Alex," Nikita breathed. "Amanda knows about Alex." She turned to Ryan, with an urgent expression on her face. "Let me see the message."

He gave it to her and she examined it quickly. "Is this the exact paper it was handed on?" Ryan nodded the affirmative.

There were small frays alongside the thick paper and she counted them and closed her eyes, doing mental math as quickly as she could. "38430."

Owen exchanged confused looks with Ryan, and then glanced away quickly, each trying to pretend the other didn't exist.

"It's a numbers code that was taught to me during training…" Nikita hurriedly explained. "It was supposed to be a way for me to relax, like an easy warm up lesson…"

"38430," Owen said.

She nodded. "March, 8th, 4:30."

"That's tomorrow!" Ryan exclaimed.

"Golly jee, thanks for that, bud!" Owen rolled his eyes. "4:30 am or pm?"

Her eyes were sad. "Am. They'll try to catch her off guard."

"_Who_?"

"Alex," Owen and Nikita answered simultaneously.

Owen smiled reassuringly at her. "Let's go save the brat."

"Wait, how do we know we can trust this Amanda woman?" Ryan asked from the backseat on Nikita's van.

"We can't," she responded, not keeping her eyes off the road. "But Amanda didn't send the message."

"Come again?"

She glanced nervously at Owen out of the corner of her eye. "Um, the person who wrote it knew Ryan would try to crack it, so they used pigpen, one of the easiest ciphers. They signed it Amanda, just in case it somehow ended up in Division's hands or Ryan wasn't someone I really trusted. Most people hate Amanda," she added with a smirk.

Owen frowned. "But the frays… you said that was an easy warm-up lesson. I personally didn't learn it as a recruit, but wouldn't someone from Division now recognize it?"

"It _was_ a warm up, but it was only taught to me," she responded. "My mentor created it especially before one of my first missions… I didn't trust many people in Division as a young recruit."

"Mentor?" Ryan repeated.

"Shit," Owen muttered. "Broody."

"Broody?"

"Is there an echo in here?"

Ryan ignored him. "You mean Michael? They guy with the huge bags under his eyes and the voice like Batman? They guy that _shot_ at us?"

"Batman?" Owen shook his head. "More like an old woman with emphysema."

"Yes, Michael." Nikita's jaw was set, her eyes determined. "But I'm positive we can trust him."

"Why?" the two men asked.

She smiled bitterly. "Because it's about Alex."

* * *

**Hey! Sorry this update took so long. To tell you the truth, I lost my inspiration. Over the course of the last few episodes, I started falling for Michael/Nikita. I mean, I've always been in love with Shane West, but he has been really shining lately. I still love Owen, thought, don't you fret. And when my hatred for Michael simmers down in random spurts, I can always bash Fletcher, whom my hatred runs deep!**

**Btw, I DO NOT support Michael/Alex and I doubt I ever will. FYI. It's only because the woman who plays Alex is such a bad actress. And I loved, loved, LOVED Thom. This will not have any of _that_, slightly disturbing pairing.**

**Haha... wouldn't Alex/Percy be gross? Or Alex/Birkhoff...**

**hmm...**

**OH. And the fray cipher IS real. Let's just pretend Michael made it up.**


	6. Chapter 6

"I spy with my little eye-"

"_No_, Fletcher."

"I was just trying to lighten up-"

"No."

Nikita sighed as they sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic. The two "men" hadn't stopped bickering the whole ride. Ryan had made the mistake of mentioning how in the James Bond movies, traffic never seemed to be a problem, and Owen had jumped on him, with what seemed like a well-thought-out rant on how much bullshit movies are. Every word Ryan uttered was thrown back at him by a single barb from Owen.

It was because Owen didn't understand why she would let Ryan tag along. In all reality, she didn't care _what_ he did, she just wanted to get to Alex's apartment as soon as possible. But, for some reason, it seemed like Owen was almost...

Jealous?

Normally, it would be pretty entertaining, but all Nikita could concentrate on was Alex.

It was nearly midnight, and from Micheal's message, she knew they would send a team to her new apartment early... in only a few hours. Michael himself would probably be leading the team. Percy always loved to torture him when it came to "putting down" young agents.

"Now that we have time," Ryan said from the back bravely, risking his head being bitten off for speaking by either Owen or Nikita. "Would you mind telling me Alex's backstory?"

She kept her eyes on the road. "You mean how she became my contact?"

"Yes. I have a feeling that it would save us all a lot of trouble if we knew who was on our side and who wasn't. Is Amanda? Or what about Michael? If he tipped you off- well, is he on Team Rogue?"

"Team Rogue?" Owen repeated, his lip twitching.

"And?" Ryan challenged with his eyebrow raised. "We are a team, aren't we? I mean, I understand I'm not exactly a Division Rogue, but-"

"I start to like him," Owen interrupted, speaking to Nikita. "And then he ruins it by talking on and on."

She decided she might as well tell them most of the backstory- the Sparknotes version, anyway. "During a Division mission, there were plans to kill the Udinov's- an extremely important Russian family. Their daughter was said to have died in a fire along with her parents, but..."

"Alex is Alexandra Udinov?" Owen asked and then shook his head. "Well god damn."

"After I saved her... well, I didn't see her again for a few years. She wound up as a-" Her hands gripped tighter on the wheel and she swallowed a few times before deciding to leave out the slave bit. "And then she wanted revenge for what happened. To her and her parents." She smiled a bit. "And the only thing I'm good at is revenge."

She pressed speed-dial again, but knew Alex wouldn't pick up. She was probably already in trouble. Or, you know, asleep.

"What about Michael?" Ryan pressed. Owen's ears perked up a bit.

Nikita shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Well, he was my mentor. And a good one. He's always been attached to recruits."

Owen refrained from making a dirty joke.

"That's why he gave me the message. He cares about recruits like Alex... maybe even more so if he's found out her true identity. He has his own... personal reasons for staying with Division that I can't even begin to influence or persuade him against. And... we've saved and betrayed each other too many times to count." She turned to glance at the two men. "So, no. Micheal is not on our team. And I doubt he'll be on Alex's for much longer."

* * *

They finally pulled up to Alex's apartment building and Nikita let out a quick breath of relief when she saw no black trucks and no other signs of Division.

_I guess Michael did come through,_ she thought hesitantly to herself as she hopped out of the car to go get weapons from the trunk. Ryan and Owen climbed out as well.

She threw Owen his favorite gun ad froze as her fingers skimmed a knife- the same one Michael had given her. Were they back on the same side once more? Her stomach turned a bit at the thought.

"Ready?" Owen asked.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and nodded. "My rules," she reminded him.

"Your rules." He nodded and then glanced quickly at Fletcher before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. It was quick and she froze up against him, her sharp reflexes seeming to forget themselves at his touch. He tried to fit meaning into the short bit of contact and then sat back, flashing her a small smile. "Starting now."

Owen turned to Fletcher, who looked torn between wanting to punch him or burst out crying. "Alrighty then, newb. I think it would be best if you stayed here."

"Like hell!" Ryan cried. "You'll need me!"

Owen laughed. "Hate to break it to ya, man, but you can't _actually _stun people with your _intellect _and you can't accomplish whatever you want by setting your _mind _to it. You need to be able to fight, or you'll die." He shrugged. "We'll have enough problems without having to worry about babysitting _you._"

Nikita cleared her throat, trying to hide the fact that her cheeks were flushed. "He's right. I need you here, Ryan."

When he saw her glance at Owen and bite her lip, Ryan knew that things had changed. And that he himself had been knocked down a few pegs in more ways than one.

"Balls," he whispered, kicking the tire.

* * *

The two partners charged up the stairs because elevators were way too slow and not at all badass and not to mention one of the reasons America is so obese, but let's not get into that.

When they reached the door to the apartment Nikita pulled out her spare key and opened the door slowly. The inside seemed completely undisturbed and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Alex?" she called softly. When there was no reply, they walked into the room.

Nikita examined the kitchen and the bedroom. "Well, I guess we got here on time-"

"Uh, Nik?" Owen interrupted. "Company in the form of, well, an asshole." Weird mental picture.

She froze and slowly turned around.

Michael was staring at her, sitting on a chair. Behind him, unconcious on the couch, was Alex.

He smirked at her and tapped his large gun against his leg. "Ask me how I got here."

* * *

**And I'm caught up! Ta-dah! Actually, I wrote this weeks ago and thought I posted it. Then I wondered why I wasn't getting any reviews, got depressed, didn't continue, realized it didn't publish, blah, blah...**

**So, Michael's back to being the douche in my story. He'll basically stay like that no matter what happens in the show. Don't get me wrong, I like the guy, but he's like the hot step-brother I'll fool around with (writing-wise, of course) while I'll always be really in love with Owen. And then there's Fletcher, who I just think is pointless.**

**CAN'T WAIT TIL THURSDAY! **

**Whoop.**


End file.
